


A Comedy of Errors (But not that kind)

by crystalline_raven



Category: End Roll (Video Game)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Everybody Lives, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-06
Updated: 2019-11-13
Packaged: 2021-01-24 01:50:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21330289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crystalline_raven/pseuds/crystalline_raven
Summary: Ever heard of the butterfly effect? A little change in an event can alter so much....hm. I suppose counting these as "little" changes would be a little generous.In which Russell remains a damaged child, and depending who you ask fortune is either violently for or against him.
Comments: 14
Kudos: 35





	1. A trip to the zoo goes a little differently

**Author's Note:**

> Spawned from a conversation on the End Roll discord.  
My first fic in a long time so please be nice.

It was a cold day. The kind where remaining outside without a coat for mere minutes would give you an awful chill. 

<del> _What luck that he had long grown used to it._</del>

Unfortunately, being outside in the bitter weather was still preferable to the hell that awaited him in that house. His dad’s yelling rang in his ears long after he had left.

At the very least, the zoo wasn’t too far away. While he was in no way dressed for the weather, the short walk likely wasn’t enough to really be a problem. Paying his entry fee, he wandered into the zoo. 

Quite honestly, it was going fairly well. He did like animals enough

<del>_other than those stupid horses…___</del>

_ _so he did end up having fun._ _

_ _ ...at least until he heard the screeching._ _

_ _ Anger, hot and bitter shot through him. He had come to the zoo to get away from his father’s damn yelling, and even here he had to be reminded of it. Stupid annoying monkeys, stupid annoying monkeys, stupid annoying-_ _

_ _“...hey, you okay there?”_ _

_ _ He had barely acknowledged the zookeeper when he first arrived at where the monkeys were kept, so he hadn’t noticed when the man in green had stopped to see what he was doing._ _

_ _“Do you not have a jacket?”_ _

_ _ He noticed only then that he was shaking. The zookeeper must have mistaken his anger for being cold. He distantly remarked that he ought to shake his head, at least offering some kind of answer._ _

_ _“...well, you shouldn’t be out like that then. I’m Tabasa, what’s your name?”_ _

_ _“...it’s Russell.”_ _

_ _“Tell you what then, Russell, once I’m done feeding Rafiki and the others here, I’ll take you to the back room. I’ve got a jacket there I can wear, and you can have this sweater. You know it won’t be good if you catch a cold, right?”_ _

_ _“...yeah. Thank you.”_ _

_ _ He wasn’t stupid, nor afflicted with amnesia. He remembered what had happened the last time he had decided to follow some stranger. The time a small knife had probably saved his life. Odd as it was, he felt like he could trust Tabasa._ _

_ _ ...and admittedly the thought of something warmer than what he was wearing was appealing._ _

_ _ They had to be quick and quiet about it since it was unlikely that Russell would be allowed somewhere that only staff should really be. Tabasa had finished feeding the monkeys in minutes, and they had ended up in his back room in less. It was nice._ _

_ _...more monkeys screaming their heads off in cages was decidedly not. He tried to distract himself, deciding he enjoyed being in Tabasa’s company._ _

_ _ Tabasa was very nice. He was giving up his hooded sweater for one kid he found wandering around the zoo, and had brought him somewhere much warmer than it was outside as well. Russell wondered distantly if this is what it would be like if he had a big brother. If he did, would his big brother give up his sweater for him if he was cold? Would he take him out of the cold?_ _

_ _ ...would he take him away from that hellish house, away from his parents?_ _

_ _ Suddenly, the warm feeling that came with thinking about his hypothetical big brother had seemingly evaporated, leaving behind a cold weight that settled in his chest. He suddenly felt... sad. Really sad._ _

_ _ He could hear the screaming of the monkeys louder, louder, louder than before._ _

_ _ He could see that Tabasa had squatted down in front of the cages. _ _

_ _ He could see a nearby iron pipe, one that felt heavy and cold in his hands. _ _

_ _ It felt just as heavy as he brought it above his head, and began to swing it down-  
“Eh? George, what’s with you? You’re usually so quiet…”_ _

_ _ Perhaps George the monkey really was usually quiet. What was certainly not quiet was the sound that came when the iron pipe struck the cage where Tabasa’s head had been seconds earlier. Nor was it quiet when the pipe clattered to the floor as Russell dropped it, and quickly followed suit himself clutching at his head._ _

_ _“Wha-? Russell, what just happened- oh man… okay calm down here…”_ _

_ _ He could only distantly hear panicked words, his dad’s yelling still going round in his head._ _

_ _ He had to get out of here._ _

_ _ He did put up a good effort. He made it several feet out of Tabasa’s back room before collapsing on the pavement, trembling like a leaf._ _

_ _“Hey, hey- it’s okay. You’re okay. I’ve got you.”_ _

_ _ Tabasa’s hands were comforting weights on his shoulders. He couldn’t tell how long he knelt on the concrete with Tabasa in front of him, until he managed to choke out the words._ _

_ _“...I... I’m sorry… the monkeys…their screaming…it reminded me of...of...”_ _

_ _“It’s okay. Take your time.”_ _

_ _“...it reminded me of dad…”_ _


	2. A birthday party (that doesn't end the same way)

His dad told him relatively frequently that if he dared to tell police what was going on in that house, he would live to regret it. Though he said nothing about telling zookeepers, Russell was in no way stupid enough to take the chance. So while it had taken quite a bit of deflecting, and promises to join Tabasa at a later date to see something more quiet at the zoo (perhaps some fish?) he had eventually managed to stop the questions from veering into dangerous territory.

Of course, that had been a while ago. Whether or not he would take up the offer was a problem for another day. Today, he had a birthday party. 

They weren’t close. He had merely been lucky enough to be in the same class as the blessed girl, and had thus been invited. But as little attention he paid towards rumours at school, even he was aware that the Reitman family was rich. In other words, attending this party would almost certainly allow him to sleep with a full belly for once.

He would be a fool not to take the offer, no matter what the other attendees whispered behind his back.

Of course, with the knowledge of the family’s wealth came some confusion as to why the blessed girl’s father was the one to cook all the incredible meals that had adorned the table. With the little knowledge he had, he assumed that a catering service would have been employed instead. 

The little family appeared happy, with both father and daughter speaking highly of each other. Gardenia’s father spoke of his daughter with love, referring to her as an angel. Gardenia’s own praise answered his unspoken question. From the blessed girl’s excited words, it was apparently because her father was a world-class chef. The amazing birthday cake had also been one of his creations.

For whatever reason, it was the words “birthday cake” that forced him to recall something that had been practically buried for a year.

It was his own birthday as well. 

A lonely realization, considering not another soul in the room had even the slightest idea.

...of course, even if they knew, would anyone care? He himself was only here because he knew that with the family’s wealth he would be warm and fed for at least a few hours. Even with the knowledge that it was his birthday, would anyone in their right mind choose him over Gardenia, the blessed angel?

The cold weight, the same from thinking of his hypothetical big brother, settled in his chest again. He remembered what had happened last time, what _could_ have happened, and decided to flee up the stairs. He had actually managed to calm himself most of the way, until he saw the bright butter yellow of the blessed girl’s dress.  
She was standing on the landing, seemingly trying to find a moment to herself in the hectic party. She surveyed the guests as though it were her little kingdom, a small serene smile on her face. She hadn’t yet noticed him.

His anger returned far more quickly than it had left.

He had counted fourteen candles. They had the exact same birthday. 

Why was she the only one celebrated?

Why does her father refer to her as an angel? 

...does he think she can fly?

He began approaching her back in silence, prepared to give her a forceful push, and then-

“EEK!”

She had begun to fall, but even his fingertips had yet to make any contact. The momentum his body had from preparing to push her had not disappeared, and sent him falling down the stairs as well.

Mere seconds later, both had reached the bottom.

Without a scratch.

“Ah! Sorry, you tried to catch me and pull me back huh?”

He was too utterly confused to answer.

“...I’m sorry, how are we both fine?”

Gardenia’s father had an answer.

“As much as I call her my angel, she doesn’t always have the grace of one, She trips and falls pretty often, so after a certain point I got some soft stair treads! Lucky I did, huh?”

He stared blankly. Even if she hadn’t happened to fall, she would have been fine. She likely would have noticed the push to her back and he would have had to deal with that mess, but she would have been fine.

He distantly thought that he should probably answer her father.

“...yeah. Thank you for that.”

“No need! If I lost my angel here or any of her friends, why I don’t know what I’d do with myself!”

How ironic.

Gardenia was thanking him for some reason, as well as apologizing.

“Sorry you fell ‘cause of me… you tried to pull me back before I fell right? Ooh, does that make you my knight in shining armour?”

...she was so nice, and he had nearly killed her.

“...hey, can I… can I confess something?”

“Ah? Are you confessing your love for me? Gosh, I said you didn’t need to give me a present!”

“N-No… actually… um…”

“It’s fine! Whatever you have to say my boy, we won’t think any different of you!”

“...today’s my birthday too.”

He had no idea why he had felt the urge to confess what had happened, but he wondered if this confession was just as poor an idea. Until…

“...seriously?! Why didn’t you say so earlier! We could have celebrated you too! Wait, we still can today!”

“..eh?”

“My angel’s right, we can celebrate for you too! Here, you two can cut the cake together!”

“Wha-”

“Come on Russell-” since when did she know his name? “Let’s cut the cake!”

He only vaguely recognized that his hand was holding the knife with Gardenia, and it sunk into the large strawberry and vanilla cake. Two slices were cut, and Gardenia insisted they have their first bite at the same time.

...the cake was the most delicious thing he had tasted in a long, long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: I actually researched stair treads for this. While most are meant to prevent you from slipping, there are some soft ones. Also it seemed somewhat more believable than just sticking Gardenia in a like a bike helmet.


	3. We'll burn that church when we get to it

Chris had regretted his decision to ditch Gardenia’s birthday party, having thought that he had nothing good enough to wear. News of what had happened at the party had circulated around the school. Russell had ended up promising to celebrate alongside Gardenia again next year, with Chris bemoaning how he should have gone to the party.

The only reason Russell was aware of the rumours floating around school, was because for once he was attending somewhat regularly.The cold he had felt while at the zoo was nowhere near as bad as it had been before he had received the green hoodie from Tabasa, though he still found himself shivering when he was outside for too long. Staying indoors would help him avoid getting sick, however he would rather remain outside if his only other option was to stay in that house.

Which is why, when school ended for the day or on weekends, he had taken to visiting the small church at the edge of town to pray.The church was very pretty, with pure white walls. Despite the change in season, vines and flowers wrapped around the building. He wasn’t sure he could believe in a god, and thus his prayers were a little unorthodox.

Every time he went there to pray, he saw the priest and his sister. The priest appeared to be somewhat strict, while his sister appeared to be somewhat shy around anyone who wasn’t her brother.

Of course, eventually at least one of them would be curious as to why a skinny blond teenage boy spent so much time praying in a church alone. One day, the priest had asked him, 

“You appear to be quite devoted. What is it you are praying for?”

This was a place of truth, was it not? Though, better err on the side of caution.

“...do you think God can give me another family?”

A strange question, that was for certain.

“...most likely, he could. But I think he will teach you to love your own family. Why would you want another?”

A seemingly innocent question.

“...I want a family that loves me.”

The priest was taken aback.

“...you believe they do not love you?”

“...yeah. They do a lot of things that… they… shouldn’t.”

“Ah, is that why you think they don’t love you? Tell me, have you ever done, or thought of doing something you knew you shouldn’t?

While Russell may have not had a different answer from most other people, he somehow knew that the things that came to mind for him would likely differ from anyone else.

“...yeah. I have”

“And let me assure you, I have as well. Everyone has sinned, but if we repent, then in the eyes of God all is forgiven! Do you understand?”

“...yeah.”

In truth, he didn’t. Not really. But what he had noticed for the first time was the cross hanging around his neck. As well as around his sister’s.

‘If we repent, then in the eyes of God all is forgiven!’ Is that all that mattered to these people?

They wore crosses around their necks. They were in that church more often than he ever could be, and from the looks of it more than anyone else.

Why were they so desperate for love from their god?

Why, when they had a mother as kind and warm as they did?

...why did they deserve that love, and he didn’t?

Was it because they didn’t despise anyone like he did?

...even if they did, they were ‘forgiven.’

...could that repenting forgive anything?

When the destructive urge returned to him this time, he had ended up waiting until late at night. As it turned out, gasoline and matches were surprisingly easy to obtain.

On the new moon night, at the edge of town, Russell poured gasoline around the church, and lit a match.

Now, if Russell had begun to attend school regularly a little earlier, or had for whatever reason chosen to research it, he may have known that water actually makes gasoline fires worse. Instead, all he knew was the vague idea children were taught which was “water puts out fire.”

Thus, when he had realized that what he had thought was a new moon sky was actually a sky covered in thick clouds, and the sky opened up in a heavy downpour that had put out his match, he decided to leave.

He had left behind the empty jerry can and book of matches, and had started to walk home. Until…

“Hey!”

He looked back through his soaking-wet bangs. It was the priest’s sister. After the absurdity that was the random thunderstorm, he decided that he might as well go with wherever the hell this day was leading him.

“I’ve seen you here before, right? Our mom is going to take us home in a bit, we can probably take you home too. Wait out the storm with us in the meantime, okay?”

Why did he keep nearly killing the nice ones..?

“...thank you.”

“Don’t worry about it. Hey, Dogma, do we have any towels or blankets?”

He had left the hoodie hidden in the drawer beside his diary, not having known how the weather would turn. Coming in from the rain, he had begun to shiver.

“I believe so… here. Ah, I remember you. What were you doing outside at this hour?”

“...taking a stroll.”

An obvious lie, borrowed from a certain doctor, but it would suffice for now.

Dogma, the apparent priest, had returned with some towels.

<del>had he truly never even learned their names?</del>

“Well, it appears you were rather unlucky to be caught in the rain. Here, Cody.”

He was handed a towel and he began to dry off his hair.

“Are you alright child? As Cody said, our mother can take you home.”

Perhaps ten minutes later, their mother had arrived. When he had given them his address, he didn’t miss the look that passed between them.

All along the way, cold dread settled in his stomach. Once the car had stopped and their mother turned to him, she likely saw something he had no way of seeing.

“...hm. My dear, would you be missed for a single night?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As stupid as the idea is, I think it's still fairly believable. Also, I hope this fluff and how silly this is will be enough to make up for what's coming next.


	4. A calm and a storm, but not in that order

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You didn't think Russell's tale, even in such a world, would remain so soft forever, did you?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is a tad late.  
As I said last chapter, I really hope the last bit of fluff makes up for nearly 1500 words of angst. TW for suicidal thoughts/ideation.

Staying with the Toscarina family for a night was… pleasant, to say the least. He had eaten dinner with them as well, without missing their mother’s concerned gaze at some of the answers he had given as they conversed. At some point, they had asked his age. He had pretended not to notice the look they shared when he answered. When they had offered him a second helping, he had accepted while trying his best not to think about why they should be concerned for him. 

He decided in the morning, after he was offered a ride to school, that he should try not to return home with them again.

<del>without even trying to repent, he knew he couldn’t be forgiven.</del>

The predicament remained, however, of needing somewhere to go that wasn’t his own house whenever possible. He refused to overburden Chris and his mother, and being cared for by the Toscarinas had made him feel… odd. It was something new, something he couldn’t understand.

Luckily, he had another option.

He had met the doctor from the eastern country after seeing an advertisement for herbal medicine. Little knowledge he had, he assumed that it would be cheaper than an alternative cure for the many bruises that littered his body. Cold compresses from that kind nurse were helpful, but he would like to not overburden her.

They had shared many interesting conversations, and at some point the doctor began to allow him to stay the night. 

“Hoho, it wouldn’t do if you were to catch cold from walking home at this hour. Stay, young one.”

He wasn’t about to complain.

Doctor Kantera was immeasurably strange, and he himself could not exactly be called normal. Thus, it wasn’t very surprising that conversations between the two tended to be unorthodox as well. The doctor spoke of things that Russell would likely only ever be able to see in books. The country he came from was incredibly different from the one in which they both resided, from funeral customs to common snacks. And yet, the concept that Russell had found most foreign was the talks about “Grandfather.” 

To speak of a family member with such admiration and love, while something he had recently been able to observe, was not something he could say he had reason to experience. He had heard the Reitmans speak highly of each other, praising each others’ good qualities. The Toscarina family, on the other hand, seemed to hold each other in a reserved kind of warmth. When doctor spoke of his grandfather, it seemed somehow different from both yet similar. Either way, the closest he had was vague memories of books and the woman who owned them from what felt like an entire lifetime ago.

Obviously, their conversations could not remain so light. Both could in no way be called saints, while it remained up in the air which moreso. While Russell had been, for whatever reason, unable to confess to Gardenia, or Tabasa, or the Toscarina siblings, or even the god he couldn’t bring himself to believe in, confessing his sins to Kantera had felt easy. 

While the doctor had never told him outright, he was intelligent enough to know that he had received a confession in return for his own. The doctor had killed in frustration, yes. But even then it was an act of mercy, a far cry from Russell’s jealous and sorrow filled outbursts. So, with his chest tightening, he wondered distantly why the doctor remained kind to him.

His answer came far too soon.

Perhaps in the back of his mind, he always knew it was coming. Why else would the doctor have taken him in for the night so often, taught him about the medicinal plants, satiated his curiosity about what his home country was like? 

...why else would he be so clear, if subtle, about what he had done?

Still, even if he had always known, it still chilled his blood to hear it said aloud.

“I want you to kill me.”

So casually, as though merely asking for another cup of tea.

“I have wanted to do so by my own hand for… quite a while now. But I fear I can only ask you.”

...Russell supposed this was fair payment for all the doctor had done for him. Still, the kitchen knife felt uncomfortably heavy in his hands.

“Ah, that’s a good knife. Thank you, Russell, for indulging me.”

Surely he could do this, right? Not many people visited the shop. It was unlikely he would be caught… and yet, he still found himself hesitating.

He began then, to try and set off what had now happened thrice. He thought about how this must have meant that the sole reason he had been given shelter was for this. Confessing their sins to each other, being given that gel to help with his bruises, staying the night to escape that house, all of it had been in hopes that he would feel indebted enough to kill him.

...it wasn’t anger this time, however, Instead, sorrow.

A feeling just as bitter, but far more cold.

Because he knew that even now, knowing what it had all been for, he still found himself grateful to the doctor for his kindness. The idea of killing him… did something odd to his chest. He suddenly felt that it was harder to breathe.

Kantera would have been a fool not to notice his hesitation. Had Russell been concentrated on his face half as much as his own thoughts spiraling, he would have noticed the moment his eyes fell. 

“...oh dear. Are you unable to fulfill my request? ...if so, I understand.”

The doctor was suffering. As little as he understood these things, he found that he was as confident in this realization as he was in his own name. But…

“...doctor… even if I kill you… even....”

His throat felt tight, and his lungs felt heavy.

“...even if you die, will you really be at peace?”

A strange question, especially from him.

As guilty as he felt for nearly killing people who had ended up being so kind to him, he knew he would feel no guilt if he were to kill his parents. So the question was, why had he not?

...because he knew it wouldn’t solve much.

What then, after his parents were out of his life at last? Where could he go? He knew that even if he had somehow managed to kill his father, it would be a mess. Killing his mother may have been a little easier, but getting her alone would be a task of its own.

In short, best case scenario was a complete disaster. Nothing would really change, and if so only for the worst.

And similarly, he didn’t think that killing Kantera would help him.

...if that last bit were any indication, it would appear that doctor was having second thoughts himself.

“...why Russell, you ask the strangest things.”

“...doctor, I’m grateful for everything you’ve done for me. I don’t want you to suffer… but I don’t want to kill you… I’m sorry.”

At some point he realized he had fallen to his knees, and the knife held loosely in his hand was trembling with the rest of him. He was staring blankly at the tatami mats, 

“...Russell, please. Look at me.”

However reluctantly, he did. The doctor’s face was unreadable. Until…

“...I’m so sorry.”

Tears had beaded at the edge of his eyes. Russell’s own had followed suit. 

“...ha. How cruel of me. You carry the weight of the world on your shoulders, and the only thing I can think to do is to add to it? I… well, if you choose not to forgive me I understand.”

“...that’s not true, doctor.”

The surprise was obvious.

“Whatever could you mean, young one?”

“...even if it was only because you wanted me to kill you, you were still kind to me. I really am grateful for everything.”

“...”

“...I’m sorry too, doctor.”

“...my my, I truly am a fool.”

“...eh?”

Despite the tears rolling down both pairs of cheeks, the doctor smiled.

“Is that what I have made you think, Russell? ...I truly am so sorry.”

Two breaths hitched, one from tears and the other from surprise. 

...the doctor hadn’t taken him in for the reason he had thought.

“If I could do anything to earn your forgiveness, tell me, what would it be?”

Between getting up and flinging himself into Kantera’s arms, a heavy knife clattered to the ground.

“...please… let me stay like this… if only for a bit.”

“...hoho, Russell, you ask such a low price.”

Neither could say how long they spent there, in a little medicine shop clinging to each other and sobbing out their sorrows. But for the first time in a long time, they both felt at home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Admittedly, part of the reason that this took nearly 3 days was because it was difficult for me to write. Next chapter shouldn't be as bad for me to write or for you to read, though it won't be as comedic as the first few by a long shot.
> 
> Honestly? Think of this fic like the beginning of Frozen where Anna is jumping on piles of snow while laughing for a bit, then immediately gets shot in the face and it all goes downhill from there.


	5. The leaves of the clover

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternatively titled: I tried to make this slightly less angsty than the last chapter, dear god what the hell happened?

He had begun staying with the doctor more often. While previously he had taken shelter with Chris and his mother whenever his father locked him out of the house, he had always disliked burdening them. So, once he had reassured them that he was safe in the new place he was staying, he had taken to sleeping in futon beds in the doctor’s house.

...of course, it could never be as perfect as that.

Despite yelling at him to stay out of his way, his father tended to be awful the day after he hadn’t returned home. The only reason he had escaped any recent punishment after returning from school the day after staying with the Toscarinas was because he happened to be drunk enough to have forgotten. So Russell had taken refuge in the bathroom, and hadn’t left it until the morning.

Today, he wasn’t so lucky. 

Doctor Kantera had not said a word about it, but Russell was smart enough to know that a foreigner running a small medicine shop in a back alley could hardly be making enough money to completely support two people. While his situation wasn’t as bad as Chris and his mother’s, he certainly wasn’t helping. So, after eating as little as possible at the doctor’s house, he resigned himself to a weekend spent beating video games and desperately trying to ignore what was going on only a room away.

Of course, he had hardly stepped in through the door before the unfortunately familiar grip of his father formed dark bruises over his arms. He didn’t bother paying attention to whatever the hell he was talking about, having grown used to it.  
  
<del>besides, better him than-</del>

The punch to his stomach brought him out of that train of thought. After he had doubled over from the pain coughing, his father left in search of more beer.

While he still planned to stay in the house for the weekend, now that his father was home there was little point to stay during the day. So, distantly hoping that he would make it back before his father locked the door, he set out to Clover Hospital.

The nurse who gave him cold compresses despite his lack of documents or money was kind and gentle. Nearly every talk they had, however short they needed to be, she was unbelievably warm and soft. 

Nearly.

He had seen Chris pining for Gardenia, and while he didn’t understand on several levels, he supported his friend. Others, such as Chris’s mother, thought that while unrealistic it was “cute.” This “love” that Mireille seemed to feel, however…

Russell had learned to steer their conversations away from Mireille’s loved one. 

Well, he tried to. 

Because today, Mireille seemed… oddly jittery. She was hanging up laundry on the roof when he went looking for her, and had sat out of sight of the door while pressing a cold compress to his arm as she worked.

Mireille was a good nurse, that much he was aware of. She was also a good person, from what he could tell. So, when she fumbled the laundry for the fourth time and looked to be on the verge of tears, he decided to intervene.

“...are you okay?”

He had startled her, apparently, since the laundry in her arms seemed to leap back into the basket.

While her tears had yet to fall, she seemed to give up on the laundry. She began walking to the edge of the roof that for whatever goddamn reason had no wire mesh fence for safety. 

He had dropped the compress and stood up before he knew it.

Blood humming in his ears alongside thoughts of _no, no, no, please no don’t do this-_

He was suddenly only a few feet behind her, and then less so. 

“..p-please… kill me…”

His blood suddenly felt as cold as the compresses he had been given.

“I-I… have no reason to live anymore… now that he’s gone…”

Whatever material the roof was made from, it was significantly less giving than the tatami mats covering Doctor Kantera’s floors, and had hurt his knees far more when he collapsed this time. Of course, that thought was quickly buried beneath the mess of other things running through his head.

In another lifetime, he would have thought he owed a debt to the nurse, and that pushing her would repay it.

In another, he would have been upset with her death only because where would he go for cold compresses now?

In this one, however, he started to hyperventilate.

He hadn’t felt the urge to kill since the Toscarina siblings. His life, while far from pleasant, was mildly improving.

...so why was it that everyone around him still grew so close with death?

He didn’t dare bring it up with him, but the night before he had seen Kantera’s eyes linger a little too long on the knife while preparing dinner. 

The Toscarina siblings had found the jerry can outside a few days after the storm, and he had feigned ignorance. They hadn’t found the book of matches.They hadn’t said a word to him, but he knew they were unsettled.

Gardenia had been hiding it throughout the party, but it turns out that she had ended up with a slight concussion from her fall, which he only knew courtesy of Chris. Of course, because there was only so much soft stair treads could do.

He _had_ taken up Tabasa’s offer to go see the fish in the zoo, and had ended up spending most of the time deflecting more questions. Tabasa wasn’t stupid, he had to have known what had happened, so why did he say nothing? Why did he still choose to stay with him?

...even while trying not to, or trying and failing to hurt them, he still caused them all to suffer. Even if he spared Mireille, would he only cause her more pain?

“I-I… I’m so sorry…”

<del>had he picked up the stutter from her?</del>

“I… I can’t kill you… I don’t want to.”

Because there it was. Even if he was causing her to suffer by being near her, he couldn’t kill her.

At some point, tears had begun streaming down his cheeks. At some point, soft hands began to wipe them away.

“Oh, Russell… I’m so sorry…”

She was crying too.

“...I… I don’t really want to die… but without him… I don’t want to live.”

..talking with Kantera had worked, and he supposed he did owe it to her to listen about her loved one at this point.

“...what happened?”

So, she confessed, and he offered his own in turn.

...both had tried to kill in jealousy. The only difference was in their success rate.

“...thank you, Russell, for listening. But… what do I do now?”

“...I can try and stay by you, until you find another reason to live… I’m sorry but I think that’s all I can do…”

“Th-That’s more than enough… Thank you again, Russell.”

Of course, even if he confessed what he had done to another, he didn’t think he could ever let out how he felt about his presence in other’s lives.

But how naive he was to think he would never have to.

**Author's Note:**

> If you have another suggestion for what to call this fic, I'm all ears. Monkey names came from friends on discord.
> 
> I've only written poetry for quite a while, so I realize this probably felt very purple prosey. Sorry about that.


End file.
